Some Crisis Core Drabbles
by Orin Drake
Summary: Mostly funny, some sexy, all of them from my LiveJournal.  And it took me this long to put them here. cough
1. Curly

"Curly" and the over-all plot of "Curly" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: I don't know what it is. Just a mental image that went too far when I wrote it down in, oh... June.

Curly  
by Orin Drake

Most of the time, Zack enjoyed missions. They got him out of Midgar, out into different areas with _actual weather_. Sunshine, rain, even snow (and gods how he hated long periods of cold weather)--conditions didn't matter when there was fresh air and open _nature_. Still a country boy at heart.

Northeast of Fort Condor was a pretty nice area, all things considered. It was especially nice being paired off with Angeal. Guy was a total hard-ass, yeah... but Zack had learned tricks. The puppy eyes may not work, but the "eyes of extreme adoration" sure as hell did. Of course he still had things that had to be accomplished, and he didn't mind that. Investigating and exterminating monsters was kinda cool.

Or so he thought. Until he looked up from what the two of them had been staring at, trying to determine if it were a track or merely a hole in a long-abandoned road. It was a monster. Yes, most definitely. And it was staring at him. He decided perhaps the best course of action was to slowly, back, away.

Angeal noticed the movement and glanced up. The boy was clearly backing away from something currently behind himself... so he asked a relatively obvious question. "See something?"

There was a minute nod--but Zack kept stepping back. "Don't look behind you. Just... walk this way. Slowly."

That wasn't really reassuring. First Class or no, he was used to Fair being very... enthusiastic. Especially when it was the worst time to be so. "What's it look like?"

"Big." The Second Class responded, still looking up at the enormous beast even though he'd been moving away from it, not daring even to glance behind himself to make sure he wouldn't back into anything. He liked to think Angeal would have warned him. "It's got... nine eyes. And they're all looking at me."

There was a mild smirk on the elder SOLDIER's face. "Does it have great big shoulder spikes and a jaw that could snap a man in half?"

Angeal had seen one before?! Zack tore his eyes away to stare at the man, puzzled by how utterly... calm he seemed. "Yeah..."

Utterly astounding the youth, the First Class stood up, turned around--and _pet_ the monster on the snout. It _purred_. "Oh, that's Curly."

"_Curly_?" That... just... what?

Giving what looked like a combination deformed dragon and mutated Behemoth a casual scratch under the chin, Angeal then gave it a steady push away. It snorted and refused to budge. "I don't have treats for you now, Curly. Go on home."

Zack had long since stopped backing away. In fact, he was standing really rather still, save for a slightly unhinged jaw. Too much about that was just... not... it... _what_?

With another friendly shove, it appeared that the monster finally realized there was no food to be had, and bounded away. Turning back to the younger SOLDIER, Angeal couldn't help a genuine look of amusement. "It's a long story."

"Yeah." The youth managed, softly. "I get that."

-----  
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---------------

"You called, General?" Angeal greeted from the doorway, less than perfectly seriously.

Sephiroth looked up from his pile of equipment orders. "Close the door, please."

Oh, so this was _serious_. The elder First Class did what he could to keep a straight face as he complied, pulling up a chair.

"I read Fair's report." Sephiroth informed him without looking up from leaving yet another signature on a dotted line. He was going to start dreaming about them soon. "He referred to you as a 'monster whisperer'."

That got a relatively decent chuckle, Angeal leaning back comfortably. "I'm honored."

The general only sighed, glancing up quickly. "Is that... _thing_ still living in the caves out there?"

"Curly." Angeal corrected. "Still alive and well. Don't tell me you've forgotten how much he likes you."

The words gained a snort, finally getting Sephiroth to put his pen down. "He was a bit smaller when we 'freed' him from the labs."

"He's much happier out there terrorizing campers." The older man responded. "And now he knows Zack."

A little shiver ran down the general's spine. "You say that as if it could ever be a good thing."

-----  
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---------------

Angeal had to admit, there were few things in his lifetime that had been more entertaining than witnessing Fair riding Curly through the grasslands well outside Kalm. He had to watch through his fingers as if absolutely horrified, though. The other men could not know that he was laughing quite that hard.


	2. Racing

"Racing" and the over-all plot of "Racing" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: For Schala. It doesn't need to make sense.

Racing  
by Orin Drake

Ah, the open road. Speeding by at 175--oh. Right. The speed gauge had suffered an unfortunate failure at about 175. Just didn't make cars like they used to.

Just a few hours earlier, Zack had managed to get the keys to such a lovely little sports car--_Rufus_' lovely little sports car--from Rufus' own (rather drunk at the time) driver. He was merely taking advantage of the situation, something that he was certain Angeal would be proud of... in a sense. Regardless of his cruising speed, the engine purred like a sated cat. One hand comfortably on the wheel, the other wrapped around the gearshift, he was exceptionally grateful to be accelerating faster than even the most expensive military vehicles.

There was one car that could pull alongside, though. A shining black beauty, a classic Shinra Phoenix that _roared_ rather than purred, keeping up effortlessly. Gorgeous, muscled and powerful in every sense; including the driver.

How Zack had managed to convince Sephiroth to race the precious and rarely used car that Shinra had given him was well beyond the younger SOLDIER's understanding (though it may have had something to do with pillow talk...)--and it didn't matter. He'd convinced the general to _race_. Winner got top when they did a little horizontal celebration in the back of Rufus' car afterward. Because, clearly, Sephiroth did not want _his_ leather interior ruined. Not to mention, it'd be a little "thank you" gift to Rufus, for "letting" his car be borrowed to begin with.


	3. Nightlight

"Nightlight" and the over-all plot of "Nightlight" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: Based off of a drabble by Schala Kitty (which I believe I can link to, if asked). See, SOLDIERs have a special kind of nightlight...

Nightlight  
by Orin Drake

"You never heard of 'the SOLDIER's night light'?" Reno smirked, pulling his boots off just inside the door of Zack's apartment.

That sounded... well, everything sounded a little dangerous when Reno said it. But that, in particular. Cloud shook his head, careful not to actually _ask_.

"I'll show ya." The redhead promised, gesturing for the younger boy to follow. Walking into Zack's bedroom, he switched the lights on and waited.

Cloud followed into the room... and was starting to get scared. He didn't see anything unusual; it was always a mess, after all. Not like anyone bothered to make the bed, let alone clean up.

Finally, Reno closed the door behind them and turned the lights off. "SOLDIER cum glows." He tossed out casually, cackling when he saw a spot on the _ceiling_. That might have been from... that one night... Still a little hard to remember details. "Glow depends on how recently they got a treatment... and for how long they've been gettin' 'em. Ask him about Mr. Hewley, sometime."

With a knock at his own bedroom door, Zack announced his presence. "Are you teaching Spike inappropriate things again?"

"Of course not." Reno scoffed, flipping the lights back on and opening the door. "We were waiting for you, first."

Striding into his bedroom and once more closing the door behind him, Zack gave the other two a hungry smile. Sure he was tired from training, but... not that tired. "Well, I just had another mako treatment last week... wanna see if I can hit the ceiling again?"

Cloud blushed. Brightly. Then coughed and suggested, "Only if you actually _clean_ your room this time."

"This better be damn good, then." Purple eyes flashed before the blond found himself pounced on the bed.

Reno left his clothes in a pile where he stood. Crawling on the bed behind Zack, he purred, "Make it worth our while and we'll help ya."


	4. Laundry Day

"Laundry Day" and the over-all plot of "Laundry Day" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: Alright, well... it _came_ from a joke of mine that goes something like, you don't have to wash jeans until they're standing up on their own--but you definitely have to wash them before they start to run away. Then _somebody_ just had to mention Zack and Reno and automatically my mind goes "Cloud and laundry somehow go together" and... I... don't know. It's silly, stupid, completely dumb CRACK (Cloud+Reno+Zack).

Laundry Day  
by Orin Drake

It was a mostly unspoken, private bet, dealing mainly with who could wait the longest before giving up and being forced to wash their laundry. Cloud thought it was disgusting, and said as much. Zack and Reno would only grin and wave him along as the game continued.

Zack was generally clean, for a SOLDIER. Sure he had his rolls in the mud and sweaty training sessions, but he was more than capable of using a little soap and water. Regardless of the countless jokes made at the expense of his hair, he liked to look good. And smell good. He just... really hated to do laundry.

As for Reno... well. Not really adverse to a little sweat and grime--but he did make the effort to be mostly clean when he wasn't on duty. ...Mostly. He was a Turk. Unless you were Tseng, you just... didn't do laundry when you were a Turk. Boy did he have stories about Rosalind's undershirt...

And so it was with a great deal of shock that they both entered Zack's apartment at the end of a long day and start of a relaxing weekend... and saw no laundry piles. The closet and bureau were full of Zack's clean laundry, the chair in the corner stacked tall with Reno's folded clothes. It was all very... bizarre.

As they gazed at the wonder before them, the front door opened and closed, then a set of keys were tossed on the table. "You guys here yet?"

It was a mutual realization: "Cloud." The other two inhabitants quickly rushed to question the blond... but it seemed that he saw it coming.

"The jeans could stand up by themselves." He defended instantly.

Zack blinked. _That_ was his excuse for doing the laundry? "So?"

Clouds hands immediately went to his hips as his eyes narrowed, tone chiding. "So they started walking. On their own."

Reno snorted at the idea. "Did you have to beat 'em down?"

The blond's words were simply too perfectly serious. Angry, even. "_No,_ Most of the jeans just kinda ran around for a while before I managed to get them into a bag. But _one_ of them _came straight at me_. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife, then it turned and ran. _And_ managed to wiggle beneath the door. I had to _run_ to catch up, and _then_ I had to tackle _someone's_ revolting jeans and _wrestle_ them back here."

The SOLDIER and the Turk exchanged a slightly disturbed look. "You're kidding." Zack attempted to make himself sound certain.

"No." Cloud dismissed, hands still at his hips. "What _else_, on the _entire planet,_ would make me even _think_ of _touching_ your disgusting mutual pile of filthy clothes? I thought the jeans were going to kill someone. _I thought the jeans were going to kill_ _**me**_."

Okay, well... that was a pretty good reason to finally do the laundry, Zack had to admit. It did sort of ruin their fun, though. "But... Cloud. There's a very good reason we wait that long."

Still in a bit of a huff, the blond only glared. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Reno pipped up. "First one to completely run out of clothes has to wear a dress while they do the laundry. All of it."

The terror still hadn't quite hit by the time Cloud was able to respond. "Oh."

And then those words. Those most dangerous, nightmarish words to ever be spoken by a Turk--_especially_ that one. "Hey, I got an idea."

Zack didn't help. "Cheerleader uniform?"

"Oh yeah."

It was somewhere between arguing over what shoes went best with the miniskirt and half-shirt, and whether or not Cloud's hair should be in pigtails or barrettes that the poor boy decided that he just couldn't win. At least he already got the laundry done. And it wasn't as if the uniform stayed on all that long, anyway. The long socks were kinda comfy, though.


	5. It Involves a Turk and a Bet

"It Involves a Turk and a Bet" and the over-all plot of "It Involves a Turk and a Bet" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: maureenlycaon and marchwarden23's fault. Certainly not _mine_.

It Involves a Turk and a Bet  
by Orin Drake

It was a long story. A long story involving a certain red-haired Turk and a bet and lots of alcohol.

Alright, so it was a really short story. The long story would come in explaining _exactly_ why Zack was dressed in a full-body fuzzy pink bunny suit. With a great, big, fluffy pom-pom tail. Some people would hear "Turk" and "alcohol" and simply nod. If Angeal found him, the man would be cruel enough to hide his smirk while he made the Second give a full explanation. If Sephiroth found him...

Zack tried not to think any more on that subject as he scooted along in too-big feet with almost no visibility through the bunny head. Whoever designed the suit was a bigger idiot than he was. And, finding himself unable to scratch a suddenly very important itch due to the thick suit and the stupid over-sized fuzzy gloves, that was really saying something.

Well... not much further. There was just one task that he needed to accomplish before he could get back into his uniform and pretend this had never happened. He'd been handed a basket along with the costume; a very brightly colored basket filled with strange fake grass... and one egg. A single, very large egg, decorated with several pastel bands of color... and a little wire that he did not want to question. It had been made absolutely clear that he was not to drop or in any way lose track of the egg.

Most of his time negotiating the floors of the Shinra building had been spent going up dark, abandoned stairwells--a preferred method of transportation when one is dressed as a giant pink rabbit. To deliver the egg, however... he'd need to use the elevator. The very public glass elevator. Seeing no one around at the time, he ran for it, produced the "borrowed" keycard, and prayed.

Seconds ticked by like hours. The door closed so slowly, bit by bit, making his heartbeat jump until he heard the metal come together and the door seal--

And open again. ...Oh no. Suddenly the door moved much too fast, revealing first a gloved hand and then... a Turk. Rude's raised eyebrow was particularly clear behind the sunglasses. Regardless of what he may have thought (or obviously did think) about the situation, he cleared his throat politely and stood away from the large bunny, facing the door.

Zack held his breath. Reno knowing was one thing, but--

"So he found a sucker." The tall Turk's voice did nothing to hide his smirk.

_Oh dammit._ "He was just waiting for someone to take the bet, wasn't he?"

Even muffled, the source of the voice was obvious. But Rude was not one to laugh; at least not out loud. Poor SOLDIER bastard. "Word of advice, though. When you make the delivery, leave quickly."

Yeah. That made him feel so much better. He assumed his quiet groan said as much.

As the elevator door opened, Rude gave him a quick nod before walking on down the hall. At least the guy was going the opposite direction that Zack was... not that that helped.

---------------  
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Zack didn't particularly enjoy being in Lazard's office. At least not while he was in trouble. And not with Angeal sitting beside him... and not looking at him.

Lazard, however, was definitely looking. Just... not anywhere below the youth's eyes. "So tell me about the ingeniously-designed exploding rotten egg and the... bunny costume that got stuck in the incinerator. You can leave out the part about you wearing nothing underneath it. I can already see that."

Zack shifted a little, crossing his legs. "It involves a Turk and bet." He tried.

Angeal quietly drew a hand down his face and sighed.


	6. Rachel

"Rachel" and the over-all plot of "Rachel" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: A request from marchwarden23. ...I don't want to say there _will_ be a sequel, but it's unfortunately likely. (The concept of Zack's tail stems from the Kinkverse that Schala Kitty and myself have been writing; refer to my profile for a link.)

Rachel  
by Orin Drake

Angeal sighed, smoothing out the sleeves of his damnable suit jacket. He hated the thing. Dress uniforms, what a joke. He'd have to spend the evening at some ridiculous Shinra function, attempting to look like he _wasn't_ staring longingly at the door (or at the alcohol, wishing he didn't have a SOLDIER's incredible tolerance), all the while with some random woman on his arm that _Zack_ had promised to hook him up with. He was an idiot, pure and simple.

Speaking of, there was the doorbell. He surprised himself with his first instinct being merely to hide in his quarters for the rest of the night. Not that it sounded like a _bad_ idea... Well, whatever poor girl was unlucky enough to have thought she was doing a favor for Zack should at least be greeted properly. ...Unless it was a Turk. Oh, gods help all of them if Zack had set him up with a Turk...

Taking a breath, he opened the door quickly to give himself less of a chance to escape. He'd simply take off in the other direction, otherwise. "Good ev--"

Smiling shyly back at him was... decidedly not a Turk. No, it was... a sight that left him blinking. Certainly took his breath away. Relatively tall, athletic build, raven-haired, bronze-skinned, dressed entirely in black leather. A delicate silver chain lead down to a tight, simple and perfectly form-fitting corset, small silver buckles marking out every inch down the front. Hands with dark painted nails delicately entwined just above the "V" at the bottom of the corset, leading straight into a hip-hugging pencil skirt that was obviously of a softer leather and showing every little motion of legs beneath it. There was just a glimpse of extremely nice legs before those incredibly... vicious-looking boots. That was where a good deal of the height came in, no doubt. Darkly-painted lips turned upward, eyes shadowed very lightly but accented more with long, black eyelashes.

It was Zack. The hair might have been straightened out and shined up, makeup applied, clothing creating the perfect feminine form... but that was most definitely Zack. A point proven when Angeal tried to shut the door on him and fingers accented with glistening polish easily held it open.

The First Class didn't have a _choice_, really. He stepped back and let the younger SOLDIER inside before demanding, "What the _hell_?"

"Yeah, well." Zack offered a strangely elegant one-armed shrug. "I thought red nails were kinda whorey with this skirt, y'know, so I went for a more purple-red. It matches my lipstick and my eyes when I get turned on and--"

It took every ounce of self-control not to _flail_ at the boy. "You've given this thought?"

"Of course I have." The Second sort of... pouted. Like a woman. Like he'd been... studying. "I didn't want to embarrass you."

It was a long stare. A very, long, stare. Angeal didn't even have _words_.

"You'll call me Rachel."

"What?"

"Rachel."

Once again, the First seemed unable to find language appropriate for the situation. It was finally his horrified humor that allowed him to speak. "Because 'Zacharina' is ridiculous?"

Zack let out a soft, sweet little... giggle. A convincingly feminine giggle. "Yup."

"Odin kill me now..."

"Aw, aren't I a catch?" the youth attempted to defend himself by running a hand down the side of his leather ensemble. "_I_ thought I looked pretty damn good."

Angeal ignored the statement. Absolutely. He would admit nothing. "I... can't even begin to fathom how you're comfortable in that."

"Oh, well." "Rachel" turned around--and promptly bent over, lifting the skirt thanks only to the small slit in the back.

Angeal really couldn't decide upon shock, revulsion, or shoving Zack against the nearest wall to fuck his brains out. Regardless of how... little of the toy showed, the First Class recognized it instantly--the "dog tail" plug. Sans the actual _tail_ part. "So... you're... comfortable in pretty much anything as long as it feels like you're wearing your tail."

Turning back around and smoothing the skirt out carefully, the Second gave an all too Zack-ish grin. "Seems like it."

The elder SOLDIER let out a great, long sigh. "This isn't really the way I wanted to end my career..."

"C'mon, Angeal. The night is young. All you gotta do is try not to laugh while the suits fawn over me for a few hours, then I can fake like I'm drunk and we can leave."

Angeal only shook his head, muttering to himself about how stupid of an idea that was... and how he was going along with it anyway. Then another thought came to mind. "So who's the general going with?"

"Oh." Zack checked his lipstick one more time in a well-polished sword. "Well, I set him up with this cute blond..."


	7. An Evening in Gongaga

"An Evening in Gongaga" and the over-all plot of "An Evening in Gongaga" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: All for Schala Kitty. All of the good dialog is hers. Also, Adrian refers to the as-of-now nameless katana-wielding Turk in _Before Crisis_.

An Evening in Gongaga  
by Orin Drake

Gongaga was more than just a little town. It was a _community_, made up of close-knit people who more often than not lived there all of their lives and could trace their family back to the area for generations. That wasn't to say they were a dumb lot; they just preferred the simplicity and calm "way out there", away from the big cities and cesspools.

Until Shinra came with their reactor, of course. But that was another story.

Every day, shortly after an early dinner and just before the sun was to descend and make the clouds change into vivid colors, the citizens of Gongaga would gather. Everyone had something to bring; if not fresh pies then fresh fruits or vegetables from gardens, breads, casseroles or various desserts. If none of those things, then some port or cider or some of that infamous but still slightly secretive bathtub moonshine. It was a wonderful time for sharing, swapping recipes and stories.

And along with the food, everyone also brought a basket or two. In Gongaga, these were called "tossin' baskets". Often times they were full of old, unfinished food from the evening before. Spoiled dairy. Clumps of dirt. Rotten eggs that had been left in the sun. They were very important to the community get-togethers.

Settling down on the hill overlooking the reactor, everyone passing around the food while the kids ran around or played in the woods, the adults began the evening ritual.

"What kind of pie is it this time, Marge?" one of the elders asked even as he took a slice.

"Oh, this one's apple." The slightly heavy-set, smiling woman responded. "There's some blueberry in the basket to throw, though."

"Don't be wastin' the blueberry pie." One of the men admonished, reaching.

Marge smacked his hand away. "Spoiled berries and old crust. Not for eating."

"Speaking of." A younger woman with braided hair took hold of her own basket. "Shall we?"

"Have at it, Alison."

Taking that as permission and invitation, she dug into her basket for just the right thing... then found the over-large and over-ripe tomato. Standing and saluting, she then hurled the fruit.

Right on target. One of the Shinra guards in front of the reactor just sighed. Every day. Every damn day.

"Got 'im!" Alison celebrated with a little giggle and some casserole.

That was the signal. Everyone reached into their basket and took hold of something (some industrious souls used both hands). On a collective count of three, various debris rained down on the guards and troopers. Having been through it all before, they hardly moved save to shake off some long noodles or attempt to scrape curdled milk off of whatever fabric it had splattered on. The unlucky ones hit by rotten eggs... they were relegated to the side to stand by themselves.

Satisfied for the moment, the Gongaga residents simply went back to eating. From there on out, it was a random thing; someone would hurl something from their basket whenever they thought of it, between bites, or simply if it looked like it had been too long since someone else had thrown something.

One of the children, a little girl, picked up a rock. Her father lightly put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "No, now. No rocks. We don't believe in violence. But sometimes these rotten eggs get a little hard-boiled in the sun. Use one 'o them." He just smiled and patted the girl on the head as she took his suggestion, hurling one of the eggs in his basket. Sure she wasn't accurate enough to hit anyone, but it was the thought that counted.

After some time of eating and drinking, one of the older folks piped up, "Anyone heard from Zack yet?"

"No, not yet." Another old-timer with a wide, wistful smile. "Remember the time when he--"

"I think we'd really rather forget." One of the women laughed. As did the rest of the village.

"Hey, what ever happened to that Adrian kid?" someone asked with a toss of old cabbage. It landed spot-on, exploding into a shower of limp leaves when it thudded against a trooper helmet.

A younger man responded, laying in the grass and watching the clouds change color. "Went to jail, a couple of suits paid his way out... no one knows after that."

"Jail?" The girl to his side asked. "Wow, that's exciting. Never had anyone from Gongaga go to jail before." Taking a whole bunch of spoiled grapes, she then stood and flung them.

Whittling at a branch, a very grandmotherly woman responded. "Well you know, he was always a funny one, that Adrian... and not in a good way."

Silence, for a moment. Then the sound of earthenware clinking together. "So. What kind of tea is this?"

"Elderberry." The woman pouring the tea answered.

"But I don't like elderberry." The man whined.

"Then throw it." The woman suggested. "Just not the cup, too."

The sun was already starting to disappear behind the horizon when two boys stumbled out of the woods, covered in mud. Of course, they both looked too damn happy to have been up to anything "innocent", but that wasn't the concern.

"Boys!" A frail woman with her hands on her hips yelled. "This is a community get-together, you need to bring something. It's like pot-luck!"

"Sorry, ma'am." The older of the two apologized even through his grin.

The younger boy, mirroring the grin, proved his heritage by not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. "We came up with an idea, though."

"Oh?"

"Maybe we could seduce that there Shinra into seein' our side of things."

A soft plum was thrown at the younger boy, his aunt immediately correcting him. "Don't act like whores. Besides, they can't handle you."

"You know... why don't we just kill them?" one of the teenagers asked.

"We don't want to kill them." His father explained. "We just want to irritate 'em a little. Not that bruising is out of the question, but try to throw softer fruit. Unless it's the figs. They just won't turn. Aim for the helmets."

"Besides." One of the girls broke in, getting a bit more pie for herself. "What would we do if we didn't have this to entertain us?"

It was a good point. And well worth another round of throws.


	8. Mobile Lovitorium

"Mobile Lovitorium" and the over-all plot of "Mobile Lovitorium" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: Total blame goes to Schala Kitty. ...Yay.

Mobile Lovitorium  
by Orin Drake

Angeal knew something was up when Sephiroth stopped beside him--but didn't look at him. The general's voice was soft, just enough for the elder's enhanced hearing to understand. "I can't get out of here today. I'll need you to pick it up for me."

The older First Class nodded. "I'll get it back to you by the end of the day."

"It's very fragile." Sephiroth reminded.

"I'll get the kid to come with me." Angeal said in a tone that was trying to instill confidence in the other man. He wasn't quite sure it would work, given the trouble Zack always found himself in... but Fair knew what was important, and when to calm down. He hoped. Relatively certain in his decision, he walked around to the adjoining hallway as he heard Sephiroth take off in the other direction. Pulling the keys from his pocket with a loud jangle, he called out once, "Zack! Bye-bye in the car!"

The teen was a streak of motion going past him, the shouts of "Oh boy oh boy oh boy!" almost unintelligible.

If only getting Fair through missions or chores were that damn easy... Ah well, at least the boy was motivated to do _something_. Angeal followed in his usual stride, taking several minutes to navigate the halls all the way to the garage. By then, Zack was already running around like an over-excited puppy. The elder only rolled his eyes and walked to his car.

Zack had never actually seen his instructor's car. Of course he wasn't expecting a sweet little sports car or anything, but... he hadn't been expecting... that.

Angeal grinned a bit in spite of himself as he unlocked the driver door. "What, you don't like her?"

"_Her_?" the Second Class repeated. "No, that's definitely more of an... 'it'."

The elder chuckled. "Well, she's not a fancy new car, but..." Alright, so... "she" was more of a station wagon, really. Covered, thickly, in bumper stickers from all of the places he'd been; and the car itself had enough dents and scratches to prove it just may have been to all of those places. Climbing in, he unlocked and opened the passenger door from the inside--the only way it _could_ be opened.

Zack... continued to stare for a moment. Shaking his head, unable to think of anything to say that wouldn't have prompted Angeal to start up the engine (if it worked) and take off without him, he simply slid into the seat and pulled the door closed. Of course, he couldn't help but stare at the chain hanging from the rear view mirror. It was actually composed of beads connected by chain, leading down to a small cross with what looked like a materia in the center. "What's that?"

"Old." The First Class simplified, indeed starting the engine. Sure it took a minute to really get going. It was loud and slow until it got warmed up, but the car had always been good to him.

"The materia, I mean." The youth just couldn't let it go. He'd never seen materia of that color before... though, actually, it appeared to be streaked through with several colors, shifting from time to time.

Edging toward the garage exit, Angeal glanced over. "It's a failure." Not really too much more to it, but the kid seemed fascinated. "It's kind of like... a mood materia. It changes colors and doesn't really do anything."

"Oh." Zack commented, as if that made any sense. Just as they pulled out of the garage and headed for the highway, he finally asked, "So, where are we going?"

"Just picking up something for Sephiroth." Waiting for a traffic light, his fingers twitched. "It's fragile, by the way. You'll have to be damn careful."

The youth replied instantly. "Yessir." Hey, it wasn't every day he got to go on a task for Sephiroth. He'd make the best of it... and _try_ not to break anything.

Pulling out onto the on-ramp nice and slow, Angeal made sure to take a long look around... then put the pedal to the floor. Old station wagon, yes. But one that had almost literally been through hell and back and still had one hell of a sweet engine. The outside looked like crap, but every last mechanical part was taken excellent care of. And... maybe a few of them had been upgraded. "Might want to buckle up there, kid."

Zack was going to scoff. He was in the process of opening his mouth to scoff when he suddenly felt pressed against the seat from the sudden and impressive speed increase. Glancing over to see the First Class' slightly dangerous grin, he grabbed for the seatbelt. Then blinked. "It's... a rope."

"Ah, right." The elder glanced over his shoulder before changing lanes at high speed. "Forgot about that one snapping."

Well, that got a bit of a blink from the Second. "_Snapping_?"

"This thing stops just as quick as it speeds up." Was all the information he offered, the smirk on his lips assuring a long and interesting story.

Zack stared. And then, inexplicably, he grinned. "Didn't know you were such a speed demon, old man."

Reaching to shift into a higher gear, Angeal kept his eyes on the road as they sped up even more. "Got no idea what you're talking about."

Just watching his instructor lean back, confident with the wheel in one hand and that stick shift in the other, the thrill of adrenaline and sense of potential danger... Zack really couldn't help himself. Wrapping one arm in the rope that served as a seatbelt, he leaned over... and set his hand on the elder's thigh.

It got a mild muscle jump and a quick glance. "What're you doin' there, son?"

But the gleam that the Second had most definitely caught in Angeal's eyes said that he knew what was going on; and, in Zack's view, invited more. The youth had no desire to go against the man's wishes. Sliding his hand up, he paused with a bit of surprise--Angeal was already incredibly hard. "I'm paying close attention to my environment and looking for weaknesses and advantages." He quipped, grasping his instructor's erection through his pants and stroking firmly.

Angeal growled more than moaned, foot tapping the pedal and making the car lurch forward. "You've got a death wish." His voice may have been that harsh instructor tone, but he was still grinning.

"Pull over, old man." Another slow, hard stroke. "Or I'll swallow you whole right here."

A clear shudder--but the elder's eyes were still on the road. "You wouldn't dare, kid."

Zack didn't even wait for the man to finish his sentence before the zipper was down, reaching into the briefs beneath. Leaning further, grasping onto the rope and the base of Angeal's cock with equal importance, he wet his lips and relaxed his throat.

The white-knuckled grip in the wheel left a permanent imprint as the First Class gritted his teeth and made a desperate effort to pay attention to the road. _Gods_, he could feel every inch sliding into warmth, that damned silver tongue lapping along the vein, lips teasing just before--

Pulling away with a quiet laugh, the youth sat back and looked far too comfortable. When the car sped up and skidded to a stop on the nearest off-ramp, he certainly didn't expect Angeal's hand to grasp the hair at the back of his neck and pull him closer.

"The most important rule for you to remember, Zack." There was a particular seriousness in his eyes, almost hidden under the lust. "Don't be a cocktease."

"You know I'm not a cocktease." The Second grinned, not in the least bit concerned.

"S'that so?" softly growled words before he pulled the boy into a brutal kiss.

Zack's limbs melted. Enough to let go of the rope--and apparently enough to allow Angeal to reach over him and pull the handle to send his seat leaning all the way backward. The Second tumbled back, more surprised when his instructor used the rope to tie his wrists together.

That much done, the elder then grasped for Zack's pants, tugging them down with an urgency he didn't normally show. Tossing them to the floor, he then reached over to the glove compartment, clasping the tube he found between his teeth as he proceeded to get his own pants off.

Already gasping hard, Zack simply watched... then spread his legs as the man crawled over to him. He felt _hurry_ in the fingers that penetrated him, moaning wantonly with encouragement. Damn, they had _never_ had a quick fuck before, and in a beat-up old car at that. _Odd romance_, he thought.

Two fingers scissored, then three, not bothering with words or comfort or distraction. The way the boy arched up and cried out when he hit that sensitive spot inside of him was just perfect, just so damn _right_--he coated himself quickly and let the tube fall to the floor as he pushed inside without warning.

Zack _squeaked_ his instructor's name, the hard thickness pressing, pushing, making him ache and writhe and _want_. It _hurt_ so fucking _good_, feeling the raw power and adrenaline-horny energy racing through Angeal's normally controlled thrusts.

Were he entirely in a more "proper" state of mind, the First Class would have been embarrassed with just how little time it took to bring him over, collapsing atop the youth. Of course, that was before he was recovered enough to feel the slick wetness spreading between them.

There was a big, sated smile from the youth beneath. "Angeal... let's go driving more often."

The elder chuckled, carefully sliding back. "Sounds good. But first, there's a mission to complete."

---------------  
----------  
-----

Angeal walked in, carefully carrying a rather large box, with Zack at his heels. Sephiroth looked up from his desk, taking note of their presence and glancing toward the door. "Did you make it past without him seeing?"

The First Class nodded, gently setting the precious cargo atop the desk. "Lazard's busy dealing with the president, so it wasn't a problem. What is this, anyway?"

Standing up, the general carefully opened the box and dug inside, taking his time to remove a perfectly delicate crystal wine glass with what appeared to be tiny flecks of silver through the stem. "I simply wanted to get him something he would like. They're one-of-a-kind from an artisan in Kalm."

Even Zack knew to appreciate the finery--which was why he swallowed hard at the thought: he'd been holding the box in his lap throughout their entire drive back. If he'd done so much as shifted too quickly, he could have...

Sephiroth nodded as he lightly dug through the rest of the packing material. "Thank you both."

Angeal nodded, turning to leave... then pulled his keys out of his pocket. Zack _raced_ out the door with speeds even a First Class could scarcely achieve.

The general raised a delicate eyebrow. "What was that about?"

"Oh. We're... going to go driving."


	9. Appreciated Company

"Appreciated Company" and the over-all plot of "Appreciated Company" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: 'Cause Schala Kitty got me so deep into Sephiroth/Lazard, I can never get out again. grin (Again, if you're interested check out the link in my profile). NOT A SEXY STORY. It's about something more imporant, believe it or not.

Appreciated Company  
by Orin Drake

Six o'clock, and still Sephiroth hadn't shown up in his office for so much as a quick greeting. Lazard had gotten nervous shortly after lunch. By the end of the day, he was starting to show it.

"Well, it's none of my business." Angeal prefaced, headed "home" for the night. "But I don't think Sephiroth will be out of his quarters for a couple of days. So you might want to visit him there."

The words caused a cold chill down Lazard's spine. "I... yes. Thank you."

---------------  
----------  
-----

It was wrong of him to have used his keycard. He knew that, knew he should have rung a third time a least, but... damn his worry. No one had seen him, and if the general's room were monitored then he wouldn't give anyone reason to wonder. Damned if he wasn't going to check on the man, though. He could most certainly use the excuse of making sure the star SOLDIER was alright.

"Sephiroth..?" The man's quarters were rather large, but... sparse. Barely any furniture, and all of it looked impressively new. No pictures along the walls, very few "comforts of home"... if any, really. It made sense, Lazard supposed. He made a mental note to buy the man something fanciful and ultimately useless to make the space seem more... warm. "Sephiroth?"

He heard shifting, then. Something from down the hall, stumbling... Indeed the Silver General emerged, leaning heavily against the wall. He was dressed only in ratty old sleep pants, breathing heavily... and his eyes glowed like tiny green stars.

Lazard was utterly stricken, motionless. _Mako treatment_, he realized. But, that... didn't entirely make sense. Wasn't the man used to them by that point..?

Bright or not, Sephiroth's eyes were blurred and unfocused. He at least recognized the blond; no one else would have gotten inside his quarters, anyway. His voice was harsh, rough and without its usual smooth cadence. "It's... a new treatment." He simplified. His throat ached and it was hard enough to try and concentrate on standing.

Finally able to move, Lazard hurried to the general's side. He clearly needed help to stand, nevermind to walk--and while the man was incredibly heavy when a good deal of his muscle mass was slack, he hefted the weight admirably. "You should have told me. You could have..." _Stayed in my apartment_, was how he'd wanted to end that sentence.

With a tired nod, Sephiroth understood. "I didn't... know, myself. Until this morning."

"Morning?" the blond repeated, carefully turning them into the bedroom. "You've been like this all day?"

"This is actually an improvement." The general tried to smirk, but the effort seemed lost amid trying to concentrate enough to share some of his own weight. "Haven't gotten... 'aftershocks' yet."

Oh, gods. Lazard had heard the mako-related horror stories, as everyone had. Few people who weren't actual SOLDIERs had heard it in as much detail as he had, however. "Aftershocks" happened with an increase or change in treatment, as when being promoted to a higher Class. If such a thing were to affect _Sephiroth_... he couldn't imagine just how high of a dose the man had in his system.

Sephiroth allowed the executive to help lower him to his bed, trying to prop himself up with pillows. It was simply too hard to sit up on his own. "I admit... I was hoping you... wouldn't visit." He hadn't wanted the blond to see him that way; broken out in a cold sweat, shaking, all of his senses fading in and out, loud then quiet, blurry then focused. He didn't want sympathy, pity... although the patient hand running through his sweat-soaked hair felt kind of nice...

Lazard smiled fondly as the general's eyes slid shut, his body clearly relaxing. "I will leave if you'd prefer me to." He promised, feeling the other man's forehead--nearly jerking his hand away. That was well beyond a fever, flesh hot enough to be painful to the touch. "But I'd really rather make sure you're okay."

"I'll be... fine" The general's voice was softer, his breathing having gotten faster. The first sign. He tried to sit up, muscles straining.

"Sephiroth?" The quick motion, almost ineffective as it was, worried him.

"Bathroom." He whispered, swallowing back bile. No, not here. He couldn't... do that here...

Lazard would never know where he got the strength, but he damn well hefted the man to standing, taking on most of Sephiroth's weight. It was a very good thing that the bathroom was just a few yards away, something of an awkward dash taking place.

Thanks would have to wait. Sephiroth managed to grab onto the sink, falling to his knees--but that much served a purpose. "Please..."

The blond _did not_ want to leave him... but he understood. There was such a pleading tone in the man's voice that he couldn't possibly refuse. Lazard nodded, pulling the door closed behind him as he waited outside.

The _sounds_ that came from behind that door... It wasn't normal sickness. It was... horrifying. Sickness and pain, gasping, thick coughs and what must have been wood from the cabinets splintering from use as a handhold or maybe a distraction... The executive waited with a hand over his mouth from ice cold _fear_ rather than disgust. Sephiroth had already been in there for such a long time, and the sounds were only getting worse...

And then, all at once, they stopped--save gasping. More coughing. It calmed after a moment, to loud breathing. Lazard waited, hand moving to cover his racing heart. At least Sephiroth was _breathing_... He knocked twice, softly.

"Not... not yet." Came the weak voice from within.

Swallowing, the blond nodded. "I understand. I... I'm here. That's all."

Silence for a moment. Then, "Yes." Another quiet cough--with a slight thud as the general settled against the cool wall. "Thank you."

Lazard sat against the door, taking a deep breath. It was fine. It would be alright. Sephiroth shouldn't travel for a bit, though, that was certain. Well then. It was a gamble... but one he was utterly willing to take. "I'm going to call for some delivery from that bakery you like, alright? They have some very mild breads and soups..."

Another long moment of silence, save slightly labored breathing. "Sounds good."

With a slight smile, the executive lifted to get the phone. It might well be a long night for Sephiroth still, but at least he could offer some company.


	10. Ice Cream

"Ice Cream" and the over-all plot of "Ice Cream" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: Shall we just say this is atonement for something terrible that I wrote. Heh.

Ice Cream  
by Orin Drake

It was a hot day and there was quite a bit of temporary staff setting up for a SOLDIER picnic. Why the hell that had seemed a good idea to _anyone_ was well beyond Angeal's comprehension... but at least there was ice cream while everyone wandered and waited. And a picnic table off to the side under some trees he could sit at. He just muttered at how all of the tables had been covered with some kind of fancy cloth to make them look a little less "rugged" for the executives in attendance, starting on his ice cream cone in silence.

--He didn't get far that way. Someone very obviously dropped into the space next to him. "Can I have a little, Angeal?"

The elder rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Might want to get your own next time, though."

"That's not as fun." Zack grinned, scooting closer. As the First moved to hand the cone over, the younger SOLDIER merely leaned forward and slowly scooped a little of the strawberry ice cream onto his tongue. "Thaaank you, Aaangeal." He offered in a sing-song way.

Damn that boy. Damn his own control. Angeal tried to shake off the thought that Zack could make even the act of eating ice cream hot. "Sure, kid. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Nope." He almost chirped, managing to make his palm against his instructor's chest appear like a casual touch. "I'm not allowed near the food. Or the sound equipment. Or most of the people." As his hand traveled downward, the Second _purred_, "Let me thank you?"

"Zack." He'd meant it to sound reprimanding, but... when that warm, careful hand rested exactly where he wanted it to and _squeezed_...

"No one will see." Blue eyes still glinted with mischief. "Not if you just keep eating your ice cream." Before there was time for protest, Zack simply slid under the table, hidden by the cloth.

_Oh Gods. _ Angeal thought. It was far too late to simply drag the boy back up, his belts and pants already expertly opened. When that warm hand gripped his quickly hardening cock with no fabric in between, he felt that he had no choice other than to relax and let it happen. At least maybe he could distract himself with the ice cream.

It was a small hope, quickly shattered. Zack's tongue was a Wonder of the Planet in itself; still a little cool from the cold treat, it traced the raised vein as his fingers started pumping. Angeal nearly got a severe ice cream headache from keeping himself quiet as the skilled mouth wrapped around him and alternated in long laps, suction and those sinful lips moving up and down. The First Class was glad to work his way down to the actual cone, where he could _chew _something and try desperately to keep himself still as he was being slowly swallowed.

The inevitable finally happened with a low roar muffled by the last of the cone, Angeal letting himself curl over the table as he came hard down that tight throat. The Second lingered, pulling back only when he was certain he'd swallowed everything--with a few extra licks to be certain.

Forced to catch his breath, the elder simply closed his eyes and braced himself against the table for a moment--then heard footsteps. Glancing over, he saw another SOLDIER--Kansel, was it?--walking in his general direction.

The redhead paused on the way by to ask, "Is it really that good?"

Angeal knew he was asking about the ice cream, but... "_Yes_. Absolutely."

"I'll have to try some, then." With a grin, Kansel sauntered off--but not before knocking on the table as he passed.

Angeal stared after him. Then between his knees, under the table. Zack only looked up from under the cloth with not-so-innocent smile.


	11. Before the Cracks Show

"Before the Cracks Show" and the over-all plot of "Before the Cracks Show" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: Aaaaaangst. Violence and rough sex..? Emotional issues. Potentially disturbing use of a belt. Dark shit that I have no idea how to classify. Not really non-con, not really comfort, but maybe a little of both in unexpeced ways. Seph's full of self-destructive tendencies every so often. I thought I could just lock this away, that writing it in itself would be cathartic enough to please the muses... but no. So I give it a swift shove out the door to the rest of the world. Sorry 'bout that. All I can really say is, I don't know how to describe Sephiroth's point of view... I just understand it.

Before the Cracks Show  
by Orin Drake

The knock at his door was surprising. Glancing at the clock, Angeal noted that it was too damn late even to be Fair. Hell, it was too damn late for him to be awake, but it had been one hell of a long week for everyone. Just laying there in silence with nothing to do was paradise, even if he hadn't bothered with taking off his uniform yet.

When the knock became more insistent, he finally got up with a sigh and wandered to the door. The figure on the other side surprised him into even forgetting a greeting. There was... something wild in Sephiroth's eyes, like a startled animal... "Why aren't you at Lazard's...?"

The step forward was immediate, no niceties given. "He... he wouldn't be able to do this."

_No. Dammit, no._ It had been such a long time and the general was... well, in a relationship. He wasn't supposed to... _need_ this again... Angeal's throat clicked as he tried to swallow, knowing what was silently asked of him. "So you expect me to."

"You've done it before." Sephiroth reminded, locking the door.

It was a little bit of panic working down the brunet's spine. They'd done this twice before, and that was the shame of it. After once, _once_, he should have known better. They both should have. "That was... a while back, Seph. I _can't_ just... that's what you have Lazard for, isn't it?"

The general nearly winced at the blond's name that time. He... didn't want to think about that, about what a betrayal this might be--but it was _agony_ trying to hold it all inside. Cracks in the surface that couldn't be acknowledged let alone shown... Only his oldest friend knew. He may not _understand_, but Angeal was the only help that he _had_. "Not like that. He couldn't... he wouldn't be able to. Not the way I need it."

"Sephiroth." All Angeal could think to do was plead. "You need to talk to _him_. Not me."

The younger SOLDIER only shook his head. "We don't need to talk at all."

He felt like he may have gone right past the sense of impending doom, straight into the middle of it. "Dammit, stop this."

He was already stripping out of his clothes, motions hurried and desperate. "Please, Angeal. I need this. Now."

The agony in Sephiroth's voice was not something he was used to hearing. And the way the man shook... "What the hell happened?"

"Not important." The coat dropped just a moment before the pants followed. "Please, Angeal. Please."

It had been a long week, full of corporate hell and ridiculous expectations, but... _something_ drastic had happened. Nothing shook Sephiroth like that anymore... Angeal's voice was soft as honesty was all he had left. "I don't want to hurt you."

Sephiroth looked up with equally honest eyes, body completely stripped. He looked... stronger than he felt. "I want you to hurt me."

The brunet sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. It was already decided. "I know."

He didn't want his friend to have to hurt along with him, but he was the only one who could help... "Angeal. _Please_."

The pleading in those eyes, their glow dulling... "F--... Fine. What do you... what should..."

"Your belt is fine." Sephiroth wasted no time, the acceptance immediately taken advantage of. He knew that there wasn't a second to spare. "The buckle."

"_Seph_."

"Angeal." Grasping onto the top of the doorway with both hands, Sephiroth glanced over his shoulder.

Gods... why _him_? He knew the answer of course, knew that he'd been there the first time when Seph had been lost in confusion and emotional pain that didn't quite have a name let alone a proper description--it was a pain purely Sephiroth's, built over time from the fact that he was not to show himself as anything but a perfect machine.

There weren't words because there couldn't have been. Angeal pulled his top belt from the loops, hesitating before the first strike... but the look in Sephiroth's eyes suggested a pain far stronger than anything he could inflict. That idea didn't _help_ any, every godsforsaken ringing _crack_ of leather and metal and _flesh_ making him wince, making him sick to his stomach. He couldn't watch the damage he inflicted, a SOLDIER's strength wielding a weapon against a friend. Especially after the general went from flinching slightly to holding onto the molding for dear life...

When Sephiroth finally couldn't hold on any longer, collapsing to his knees... Angeal knew what he wanted. He knew but he backed away. He just... couldn't...

"A-Angeal..." The general's voice was rough and quiet, somewhere between an order and _begging_.

A pained sound escaped the brunet's throat... but his hands fumbled with his other belt. He knew what was asked of him... and he didn't want to give it. But they'd already come so far, and Sephiroth had been begging... This wasn't healthy. Wasn't right. But it was the only release Sephiroth knew when things got that bad...

The cry made when Angeal's cock slammed into him dry was an animal sound, a primal sound of pain and fear. His body jerked away instinctively--but Sephiroth held his ground. He _needed_ this pain, this shock to his body, this separation from his mind.

Angeal tried to reach for a little separation, himself. There was no way that he couldn't smell that blood, could deny himself away from _exactly_ what he was doing. _There's a fucking_ reason _Lazard wouldn't do this..._ he wanted to say, to explain...

When Sephiroth finally, fully collapsed with barely a gasp, Angeal let him. The brunet was absolutely revolted by his own actions, eyes closed as he slowly pulled away. Gods, he needed a shower and a drink. Several of each. They likely both did. The general healed even faster than other Firsts... but that would still take... a very long time. He simply _left_ the other man laying there as he went to clean himself up.

The sound of the brunet rifling through the kitchen for drinking glasses somewhat brought Sephiroth back to consciousness. He couldn't _move_ but that... that was alright. That was what he'd needed. Having a glass full of foul-smelling amber liquid set in front of him, however... "W-was... supposed to g-go see... Lazard..."

"No." Angeal stopped the thought immediately. "No, I'll call him. Tell him you're... not feeling well."

Sephiroth was in no state of mind to truly understand. "But I should... visit..."

"No you shouldn't." Reaching over for the wet cloth he'd brought with him, he lightly pushed the general's shoulder back down before the man could try to fight him. "Do you have any _idea_ how worried he'll be when he sees you this way?"

The warm cloth against his thighs... "Leave... leave me..."

"I'm damn well not going to let you lay here for another hour just so you can clean yourself up and sneak away to scare the fuck out of Lazard, do you hear me?" The words "sick and tired" came to Angeal's mind. "You're _going_ to let me clean you up, get you some potions and materia, and you're _going_ to sleep here tonight. You are _not_ to leave until I have gotten some decent breakfast in you and even _then_ I'm going to make sure you're back to your gods-be-damned self before I let you out that door. Is that fucking clear, General Sephiroth?"

There was a good deal of tense silence before the softly relenting, "I suppose."

Angeal sighed again, pulling one of the potions from the pocket of his sleep pants and adding it to the alcohol. "It's a start."


	12. Mourning for Two

"Mourning for Two" and the over-all plot of "Mourning for Two" is copyright Orin Drake 2007. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: Based on a dream I had and needed to write down. SPOILERS for a couple of characters, by the way.

Mourning for Two  
by Orin Drake

They'd just happened to turn into the same hallway at the same time. Once Zack snapped out of his thoughts and recognized that it was _Sephiroth_ at his side, however, he pulled back a bit to let the man walk ahead of him.

The general hardly seemed to notice his presence, all grace and a quick military stride. They were simply walking, same rhythm, slightly different beats. Until Sephiroth turned.

Zack flinched with the sound rather than the action. Even as a First Class, Sephiroth had moved too fast for him to i see /i --but he saw and heard the effect of the general's fist through that wall. Plaster i shattered /i along with wood, a spiderweb of cracks surrounding the crater-like puncture.

Sephiroth pulled his hand from the wall without the slightest change of expression. Turning sharply on his heel, he simply started to walk away. --But did not get far. He blinked as he came to a sudden halt, casting a blank stare over his shoulder.

The younger SOLDIER had caught him in a i hug /i . With no intention of letting go. And Sephiroth certainly i tried /i , but Zack was utterly. Determined. Not. To. Let. Go.

Only when Sephiroth sighed and marginally relaxed did the hug soften slightly. Even then Zack held on, face turned away from the general's gaze. His breath hitched only once with the weight he knew that they both carried... and though his voice was quiet, his words were strong. "It's okay, Seph. I'll mourn for both of us."

To anyone else, it would have been heart-breaking. Sephiroth was too numb for that. "If you would kindly i let go /i , Mr. Fair."

Zack willed himself a brilliant smile, even if his eyes were bright with moisture. "That's not my name, Seph."

The general sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. But he would try, regardless. "If you would kindly let go, i Zack /i ."

"Nope. You need this." Came the reply, the younger SOLDIER's expression faltering for barely a second. "I need this."

It was... honest and open and... perhaps, at some other time, it would have been painful. "This is insubordination."

"Yup."

Sephiroth sighed again, recognizing any more attempts to remove himself to be futile. Bowing his head slightly, he waited in silence.

It stung sharply, like a new wound. One that wasn't going to heal anytime soon... if ever. First Angeal, then whatever the i hell /i had happened with Genesis, then... Lazard. Betrayal and death. Or, at least... maybe death... but even Kunsel had to be wrong sometime. Not that that would have made things any better. It hurt more because Zack knew that Sephiroth was i through /i --with love, with trust, with i everything /i . Even hate.

It made him feel cold. Zack didn't like that kind of cold. He liked the warmth of the general's body if only because it assured him that they were both still i alive /i ... though maybe that wasn't saying much. Still... Sephiroth wasn't moving. And wouldn't be, he knew that. The man had never looked so tired. He squeezed again, one more try, one more holding embrace... then released. "Hey, um... my quarters. Anytime, okay? For anything." He didn't wait for a response, turning and jogging away as though there were anything more important to do.

Sephiroth didn't watch him go. He turned and glanced back after the footfalls had faded, feeling... nothing. Rage would come, he was sure. In time, maybe wishes or regrets. He had to get out of there. Away from the reminders. Expectations. Away from the places that would willingly turn a boy like Zack into a SOLDIER.

i I'll mourn for both of us... /i No one deserved that kind of sadness.


	13. Confetti

"Confetti" and the over-all plot of "Confetti" is copyright Orin Drake 2008. All characters contained within are owned forever and ever by Square-Enix and the _Final Fantasy_ name.

Background: A happy surprise for some. grin Based around a joke and a sudden, unexplained desire to write something about New Year's Day.

Confetti  
by Orin Drake

While it was "nice" for the Second to have invited himself over with as assortment of booze to celebrate the coming of the new year, Angeal could only ignore so many warning signs. "Alright, that's enough. I won't have you ringing in the new year drunk out of your mind."

Zack made grabby hands even as the glass was taken away, making a sound somewhere between a grunt and a whine. "But _Angeal_..."

"I know, you're a SOLDIER. And you hang out with Turks. But that's Midgar firewater. You don't want that in your system." The First Class was absolutely firm about his point--even when he tipped the glass back and consumed the rest for himself. "You're tipsy enough as it is..."

"Am'ot tipshy." Zack tried to yell... then giggled. "I'm _happy_."

Angeal sighed, getting up to place the glass and the remainder of the bottle far out of reach. Walking back to stand in front of his student, he made an attempted to assess the situation. He couldn't trust Fair to walk back to his quarters, and he damn well wasn't going to escort the kid back just to leave him alone. Well, he had a nice couch. "Great. You can be happy here for the night."

Those bright blue eyes lit up with a mild purple glow. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it." It was instantaneous--and he paused. His entire _being_ paused. There was a... pressure. A hand. Grasping him. Grasping the bulge in his pants. "_Fair_..."

"Mm-hm?"

"_What_ are you doing?"

"'M bein' happy." Zack answered easily, hand squeezing and massaging. "Wanna make y'happy too."

Alright. How to handle this situation... "That's really not necessary..."

The words weren't stopping Zack from stroking through the pants. Careful, purposeful; he could already feel the effect he was having, and that was enough for him. "I don' mind."

That was the problem. "You're drunk." Angeal tried to reason. "Not able to make decisions. Not that you were all that able in the first place..."

"Hey!" A spectacularly sober-sounding word cut through. "I know wha'm doing." The Second muttered, taking a bit longer to figure out how to drop his instructor's pants than he should have.

He shouldn't just be _standing there_. Not with a drunken minor, not with a clear erection, not with said drunken minor's hand around him and edging forward--oh Gods, he _wasn't _going to--

Zack was unable to show his appreciation in all of the ways he'd have liked, but that one... that was fine. Taking as much of that impressive cock into his mouth as he comfortably could, he hummed with approval. Angeal tasted exactly as he'd hoped; a mix of musk and bitter salt, undertones of soap and mako clear as his tongue swirled around the head.

There was an all too thin sound in the back of the First's throat. He really ought to have pushed the boy away, to apologize and go straight to his bedroom, locked the door-- Oh, Gods. Again. His first thought was jerking off to just this fantasy...

Pulling back to chuckle, Zack's eyes were bright and nowhere near as drunk as his words sounded. "Wha'sa matter? You want som'thin' else?"

No. No, absolutely not. He did _not_ want _this_, let alone--"Yeah." And there it was proven that even a SOLDIER's mind could be rendered useless with the right smile and a damn good promise of what was to come.

The Second's smile was all too quick to turn into a grin. He'd been planning to get _Angeal_ drunk, but seeing as how that didn't happen and he was feeling oddly sober... well, he wasn't about to let that ruin his plans. "I want that big, perfect cock inside of me. Is that alright with you?"

No answer. There was no answer he could _give_. Well... what better way to start off a new year? Shaking his head to himself as he stepped out of his pants, Angeal merely walked over to the corner table, pulling the drawer open to get to the small tube hidden in the back. If _that_ didn't scare the youth away...

Zack was hardly scared. He was already pulling his shirt over his head, trying to figure out a way to do that and unbutton his pants at the same time. The visual effect was amusing if nothing else, but the attempt alone took him quite a bit of extra time to extract either article of clothing.

Angeal watched with a grin as his student thrashed around. Yep, drunk alright. Only a First could really handle all of the alcohol that Midgar had to offer... though he had to admit as he removed his own shirt, and only to himself, he was also feeling a bit of the lingering buzz wash over him. So long as he took his time, let Zack always have the option of backing out...

But that was not to be. The moment the clothes were thrown off (and once again showing that underwear would only have been a hindrance), the Second was on his knees and elbows on the couch. Moaning. _Mewling_. "_Aaaaangeal_, come on. It's almost midnight."

The First blinked, looking at the ever so slightly blurry clock. Yes, the boy had more than likely planned this. He just wasn't entirely able to _care_. Climbing behind the younger SOLDIER, he traced that presented entrance with a fingertip, feeling his cock jump when the muscles tightened instantly... then attempted to relax for him. Gel poured liberally over his fingers, he began in earnest.

When the first confident finger began to slide inside of him, Zack knew immediately that his plan had worked and he was likely to get more than he'd planned. That thought made him spread his legs wider, encouraging a second finger with a begging moan. By the time the third finger made its way inside, he was already pushing back against them, using pleading words beneath short breaths. "Please, Angeal, _Gods_, fuck, yes, fuck me, come inside me..."

He needed no further invitation. The rest of the lube transfered to his hand, he slicked his cock and grasped onto the Second's hips, lining up. "Happy New Year, Zack." Angeal hadn't planned to allow time to respond, pushing inside with a single, smooth motion that did not slow or stop until his hips made solid contact with that soft, supple ass.

Audible, hard and heavy gasping met that action, Zack's fists clenched around the couch cushion in front of him as he realized that the grasp in his hips was too tight to allow him to move. Groaning, he squeezed down on the invading cock and only encouraged more.

Angeal's moan answered him, too far gone to hold back. The first few thrusts were careful, slow, pulling far back, pushing all the way inside, taking a breath between. After that, all control was lost; one hand remained on that perfectly padded but muscular hip, the other reached beneath to grasp the Second's cock and stroke in time with his actions.

They were an embarrassment to SOLDIER, at best. With Angeal's thrusts and Zack's wild bucking into both sources of enormous pleasure, the addition of alcohol only spurred loud sounds of pleasure and uncontrollable motion. Zack was first by only seconds, squeezing hard as he cried out, making Angeal's breath hitch as he followed suit and came hard into that sinfully hot body.

They'd collapsed just a bit on the couch. Or a little more than just a bit, but it was a comfortable sort of collapse. Cracking his eyes open, Angeal took another glance at the clock, not quite as blurry as it had been. 12:01 AM.

Zack was looking at the same thing. When he finally spoke up, however, it was a different subject entirely. "So y'_are_ a little drunk."

"And you're a little too sober." Angeal accused, making no effort to move.

That only got a chuckle from the Second, glad to have the heat and weight of his instructor. Of course... With a rather large grin, the Second reached down to the floor where his clothing was piled, then dug into his pants pocket. Before Angeal had the chance to ask him what he was doing, Zack threw the handful of confetti into the air. To celebrate.


End file.
